BillThe Flashback
by VeggieTart
Summary: I have written a series of stories that came after the sneak-peak of chapter 1 of "Dead and Gone". And yes, I put Bill and Sookie back together. The head note says it all.


_I've written a series of fanfics based on the events after the sneak peek first chapter of "Dead and Gone". This isn't the first fanfic I wrote, but I think it's one of the better ones. I'll post more if people like this._

_And since Charlaine Harris hasn't seen fit to have Bill reveal the story of how he was turned, I decided to take matters into my own hands and invent one._

Bill watched Sookie get in her car and drive away after their tryst on the porch swing. He felt incredibly fortunate that she had taken him back after all that had happened, but he sensed they were fated to be together. Bill genuinely cared for Sookie, maybe even loved her—well, as much as a vampire could love anyone. And he desperately wanted to keep her from harm. From across the cemetery, he heard her engine cease running, the thunk of her car door shutting, and the creak of the door to her home opening and closing. He closed his eyes and sighed; he could relax now, for she was safe. Amelia wasn't the greatest witch—her having turned a young fellow practitioner into a cat proved that, and he'd been witness to some of her not-so-successful handiwork—but protection spells were one thing at which she excelled.

He picked up his discarded clothing from the floorboards and discovered Sookie's underwear in the clothing pile. He sensed she accidentally-on-purpose left them there, for she had picked up her keys from that same pile. His mouth twitched in an almost-smile as he went into the house and threw the bundle of clothes into the hamper. He appreciated the modern convenience of washing machines, although he preferred to line dry his clothing. He had created a special room for that, since he couldn't very well bring them outside to dry in the sun.

In spite of the warm weather outside, he felt a little chilled—perhaps it was part of being a vampire, this coldness—and decided to run a bath. He poured in some bath foam he'd bought online—another wonderful modern convenience that made his afterlife so much easier—and stepped in as the water filled the tub. He closed his eyes to try to relax, and the thoughts came unbidden He hadn't thought about it for some time, the events that led to the loss of his first love, Caroline, and their beloved children, but tonight the memories flooded into his mind unbidden...

November 1868

In the predawn darkness of a chilly morning, William Compton fretted about his wife, who lay ill in their bedroom. Her first three pregnancies had gone fairly smoothly, with two beautiful children as a result and the one whose death in infancy last year still haunted them. Of course, their family was not alone in this particular grief; in the first years after the war ended, lack of medication, poor lines of communication, and the beginnings of rebuilding what war had torn apart had caused almost as much misery as the war itself had. He'd heard whispers of homecoming babies like theirs dying in infancy. More than three years after the War Between the States had ended, the women of his family and of Bon Temps still looked haunted; clearly there were hardships caused by this war that had profoundly affected them as well, and he knew that even those who hadn't fought had seen death up close. His father had died of a sudden mysterious illness while he was away, and his sister Sarah's fiancé had died in battle. He wondered if the painful memories of what he'd seen on the battlefield sometimes flickered across his own face.

He pulled his mind back to the present. This sickness that overtook his lovely wife seemed far more severe than the ordinary illness that happened weeks after her cycles stopped. Her face burned with fever in spite of the chill room, and his mother and sister tried to keep cool cloths on her face. She was unable to eat anything and could barely swallow sips of water.

He had known her since they were children, attending the little one-room schoolhouse, her home just past his along the road, and from the age of 12 or so on, he was walking her to her home, and then dashing back to help with the farm chores. They had married shortly after her 17th birthday, and had never parted except when he fought in the war.

On her trips into Bon Temps to sell eggs from the hens in their barn, Sarah had heard of a doctor who lived a couple days' ride away. She thought Bill should ride to find him while she and their mother cared for Caroline. She wouldn't have suggested it, for they could barely afford it, but the anguish on her brother's face worried her.

"No…," pleaded Caroline, who was barely coherent. Her dark brown hair was snarled and hung limply around her shoulders. The sweat from her fever had darkened it to a near black, and her nightgown was also soaked with sweat.

He went to brush her hair from her forehead and skimmed her blazing forehead. She wailed at the heat of his touch, murmured "no, hot" in a tiny voice, and pulled away. The sight of her agonized face caused him great sorrow

"Caroline," he said softly, "you need to get better. Our children need you. I need you. Let me go find the doctor."

"But…"

"Mama and Sarah will care for you."

She nodded and murmured reluctant assent. Sarah went to pack a rucksack with food for his journey while he spent a last few moments with his beloved.

He went into the bedrooms where his children still slept, kissed their foreheads, and walked out to mount one of their two remaining horses that hadn't been requisitioned by the Confederate Army in a futile war. Their wagon had also been taken, and they hadn't been able to build a new one. He thought of stories he'd heard, that some families stole food from soldiers from both sides encamped in the countryside, and while he wouldn't have been amused had it been his meal stolen, he could understand the impulse.

He walked outside, mounted his horse, and rode away.

He would never see his family again.

***************************  
It was a long, rigorous ride through the countryside, the November chill cutting through his clothing as the horse cantered down the road. He would have to find a spot to sleep for the night and sincerely hoped someone on the road between here and the next town would allow him a few hours' respite in a barn or shack. Although he had been raised Christian, the war had damaged his faith in god and in humanity—he wondered at a god that would allow such suffering and at humans who could inflict it. The war damaged him, he supposed, more than he liked to admit.

When the sun was high in the sky, shining weakly, he began feeling hungry. He found a small clearing by the side of the road, just steps from the river, pulled out one of the small meals packed, and ate it listlessly while his horse grazed on some grass by the side of the road. He drank from his canteen, and refilled it while his horse drank.

After both man and horse were thus nourished, he climbed back on the horse and continued riding until the light weakened further, the sun turned reddish, and the sky began darkening. He had seen what looked like buildings in the distance before the light failed, and it was almost full dark when he came alongside a house, a barn, and a small shed. He dismounted, tied his horse to a hitching post, and knocked on the door.

"Hello? Can someone help me? I require shelter for the night."

He pounded for a minute or two, calling out for assistance, and upon hearing no answer, took his horse and went to the barn, which appeared abandoned. Was this place indeed abandoned? If it was, he could take shelter guiltlessly. If it wasn't, he hoped whoever owned it would not mind his taking shelter there for the night.

He wasn't at all hungry, and he wanted to conserve his food for the remainder of his journey to and from the doctor's. He pulled out his bedroll, crawled into it, and soon fell asleep.

******************************************************

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" an angry voice demanded, shattering his sleep, which was tonight free of nightmares.

"What?" William said, jolting up to discover a slender woman, with ash blonde hair and porcelain skin standing over him, her face icy. "Oh. I do apologize. I did not know this place was occupied. I am merely traveling and needed a place to sleep."

"Who are you?" she said coldly.

He introduced himself as a veteran of the Confederate Army, said he was on his way to find the doctor in the next town over, and only needed permission to use the barn for a few hours' sleep.

She introduced herself as Lorena, a widow whose husband had died of war-related injuries a few months after they'd learned of the surrender at Appomattox.

"I am so sorry for your loss, ma'am."

"That's very kind of you. When he died, I promised I would extend courtesy to traveling soldiers. Please do come inside to stay the night. It is warmer there."

"I could not do that, madam. It would not look right."

"Very well, you may sleep in the barn if that is what you wish. But do come inside and let me feed you. You must be hungry after such a long journey."

"Thank you, madam. I would very much appreciate that," he said. He was now slightly hungry, and while he hated to impose on someone, this would conserve the small amount of food he had with him.

She led him into the house, which was warm and cozy, and encouraged him to wash the dirt from his face and chest. She brought a bowl of water, a few towels, soap and a razor and offered a spot behind a screen where he could tend to his needs in privacy while she prepared a small meal for him

He went behind the screen, cleaned the road dirt from his face and chest, and shaved. The smell of baking biscuits and simmering gravy filled the kitchen, and he felt a rumble in his belly. When he was finished, he came out from behind the screen, his face still slightly damp, and sat at the table where a small cup of water awaited him.

Shortly thereafter, the food was ready, and she insisted he eat while she cleared the kitchen. Had he not been so tired, anxious, and hungry, he might have wondered why she wasn't eating—well, maybe she'd eaten before. He might also wonder why he felt he was being almost…compelled to let her tend to him. But if he had any misgivings, he pushed them aside in his exhaustion and worry, and he ate enthusiastically. When he was done, he felt better for the first time in days.

"Thank you very kindly, madam. I will go back to the barn now and allow you to sleep. I apologize for having caused you any trouble." One part of him was screaming at him to escape this home, escape this woman, she was trouble, but another part was urging him to stay, relax, trust her, trust her…

"No trouble at all, sir. Please, stay as long as you like. You must be so tired from your long travels."

He gave a brief headshake to indicate he would not stay longer in her house and took a few steps toward the door to the house to go back to the barn. Before he knew it, before he could even comprehend what was happening, she was on him, and he felt a sharp pain near where his neck flowed into his shoulder. He tried to pull away, to fight her, but she was strong, stronger than anyone he had ever known, man or woman, and she held him fast to her as she sucked at the wounds she had made. He was dying, he was sure, she was killing him, and he didn't know why. He felt himself go slack, sink to the floor, and she straddled him, continued sucking at him, and as he felt his consciousness fade, she pressed her shoulder to his mouth, and he sensed dark, thick fluid flowing in, choking him, then flowing down his gullet.

"No…" he whispered and tried to spit the fluid out.

"You'll die otherwise," she warned. "If you want to live, you'll do as I say."

"What? What are you..."

"Be quiet and listen to me."

"Why me…"

"You're an honorable man. Other men would have taken my invitation as a reason to take advantage of me. You did not. You are a true gentleman, and I no longer wish to be alone. You will make a good companion for me."

"My family…" those were his last words and his last conscious thought as a human being.

He didn't hear her response, if there was any, for with the blood exchange almost complete, he lost consciousness.

*************************************************

Sarah Compton puzzled at the knocking on her door. It had been three nights since her brother had left to find a doctor for his ill wife, who still suffered with this odd fever. Who on earth would be knocking so late?

She opened the door to a slight, ash-blond woman with porcelain skin, who introduced herself as Lorena McClellan. She had some terrible news. Her…brother, it was. Her brother William had been thrown by his horse, who had spooked at something in the road and had been fatally injured. He had lived long enough to tell her where he lived and she had buried him in the cemetery near the house.

Sarah keened with anguish. Her mother, hearing the cry of dismay, ran down the stairs, and heard the news as well. She put her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, ladies," said the mysterious young woman.

"Can we see him?" asked his mother.

"He was horribly injured. I thought you should not see his face so disfigured. I will show you where he is buried."

Lorena was lying, of course, although they wouldn't know that. He was, right now, lying under the floor of her barn, where she had spent two days with him while the transformation started. She had left him alone and gone to the cemetery he had mentioned as he ate, dug up enough ground to give the illusion of a body buried there, and put a stick to mark the spot. She walked the man's mother and sister to the spot she had chosen, expressed condolences, and then melted away. She used a little glamour so they would not think too hard about her mysterious visit, only so that they would know their son, brother, husband, was dead.

When they realized the stranger was gone, they left the cemetery together. Sarah went to the glass-fronted bookshelf in the main room, took the bible down, wrote in the date next to her brother's date of birth, and put it back in the case. She then prepared the home for mourning.

******************************************

William Compton didn't remember what life was like before the relentless agony that overtook him. He didn't know what was happening beyond his body changing, and if it weren't for the strong arms clamped around him, he would have torn out of this hole in the ground and smashed something. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He hadn't screamed—hadn't wanted to scream—since the war, and who wouldn't scream at seeing friends shot down before their eyes and body parts amputated with nothing but whiskey for anesthetic and to cleanse wounds? Who wouldn't scream after being attacked by a woman whose slight frame deceptively hid a creature of great strength who had taken all the blood from his body?

Finally, on what Lorena told him was three nights after he had come by her house, she told him that he was vampire and that he could never see his family again, never see sunlight again. The penalty for harboring a vampire was death—for both of them. And if he walked out in the sun, he would die again, this time for good. He'd heard legends of vampires and was horrified to think he had become one. He was sickened at how she had lied to his family. He was sickened at what being a vampire meant. And soon he would become sickened at what she would compel him to do. And he would become sickened at the hold she would have over him for the rest of her existence.

Bill sat up in the water with a start. No, no, no, no, no. He was _not_ going to remember what Lorena did after coming back from his family's home. He was _not_ going to remember the eight decades he'd spent at her mercy, doing things that even gave pause to other vampires. He hadn't been completely honest when he'd told Sookie, on that first walk through the cemetery, that the circumstances were too complicated for him to go into; the truth is that they were way too _painful_ to go into.

He wondered briefly if Lorena was so evil before she was turned or if the turning had made her a bitter, vicious being. He would never know, as Sookie, his lovely, brave Sookie, had staked her while she was rescuing him from Lorena's clutches. He still felt terrible for having hurt Sookie when they were locked in the car trunk, but he was out of his mind from hunger and lack of sleep, terrified at finding himself in a car trunk. Once he realized it was her, that that horrible werefox had locked Sookie in the trunk with him, he stopped. He felt a little guilty that he'd never really thanked Sookie for freeing him from Lorena's cruel influence, but he supposed it was too late now, years later.

He got out of the tub, drained the water, and dried off. Dawn would not be for a few hours yet, and until then, he would do a little reading until it was time to go to ground for his day's rest.


End file.
